


Saying That I Want More

by Dekka



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Many Kinks, breath play, unreliable narrators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 10:12:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12679770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: Their relationship is a constant push and pull- why would their sex life be any different?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely fiction. If you think I missed any tags let me know :)

Auston likes his sex life. He gets the job done, and he gets the job done with someone he likes- well, someone he _kind of_ likes. Mostly, he’s just seen enough guys mope around with puck bunnies to feel lucky. 

“Fucking now, Matts,” Mitch pants, frantic hands hands trying to shove Auston’s slow after-practice-body off of him. Auston doesn't know why he loves him. 

His knees pop as he takes some of his weight off Mitch, trying to mentally prepare himself to get up. 

Both have been too lazy to grab a condom up until this point- but what Mitch wants, Mitch gets. It’s becoming a bit of a problem. Just today Auston got five- _five_ \- locker room chirps about being “whipped.” It’s been a bit of a day. 

“Can we at least take this to the bedroom?” Auston asks on a overdrawn sigh, already half-off the couch despite the aches that are settling in quickly from practice. When he looks down at Mitch his boyfriend seems to be considering it, but defiance dances in his eyes. Auston knows that look too well. 

“Come here,” Mitch pleads, once he’s appeared to have made his decision, arms open for Auston to lean back down. His shirt is still pushed up from Auston’s hands and his fly is shamelessly down, the bulge of his boxers shaped high enough to have Auston raising an eyebrow, trying to figure out just how much he can get away with here before Mitch gets his way- because Mitch _always_ gets his way.

“Dont be stubborn,” Mitch chirps at the hesitation, arms falling to toy with the hem of his shirt. His fingers push the material higher, but Auston just rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t be a brat,” he shoots back. 

Mitch mocks his eye roll with one of his own; it’s almost their own language at this point (it’s not Auston’s fault that his communication skills were lacking when they first met), and reaches his hand down further and further until Auston _cant_ just stand and watch. 

The second he’s given in, bent down and looming over Mitch, mouth toying with his collarbone and hand replacing Mitch’s teasing one, Mitch latches onto him. It’s not a hold. It’s a _latch_. Maybe even more than a latching, it’s a complete iron-monkey grip, arms winding around Auston’s shoulders and legs around his waist. 

“Bedroom now Matty?” Mitch whispers, obvious with his want to be carried there. 

Auston has to put all his focus towards not rolling his eyes. He figures any more eye rolls at this intensity and they’ll be stuck rolled back forever. 

In complete retaliation, Auston drops from his elbows, letting his full weight squish Mitch. It’s a silent battle for power, both of them waiting for the other to tap out as Mitch squirms under the weight. 

He lasts a lot longer than Auston anticipates. The forced silence is actually kind of enjoyable. 

“Aus, I’m gonna die,” his boyfriend whines a minute later, going for dramatics first. But Auston can gauge just how controlled his breathing is, and knows Marns will be tapping out soon enough. He’s too close to winning this -whatever this is- to give up. 

“Maybe you’ll stop talking then,” Auston says dreamily, happily snuggling into Mitch’s chest. It gets him a a choked-off laugh in reply, heels kicking at his sides from where Mitch is _still_ attached. 

“I’m a delight and you know it,” Mitch manages, but the words are breathless, using the last of his air supply. He goes a minute longer, still, long enough that Auston stops for a second just to make sure Mitch is still breathing under him. It's shaky, but there, light puffs of breath that grow slower and slower. Finally, Auston wins, Mitch’s hand tapping out against his shoulder blade. 

He pushes off Mitchy with ease, expecting to sit back and admire the winning view over his boyfriend, but something is just… _off_.

“Are you okay?” Auston asks immediately. If Mitch really wanted him off sooner he would've tapped out faster, but Mitch is oddly too breathless, looking debauched and slightly dazed. Auston swallows over the lump in his throat, hands pressingly worriedly to Mitch’s chest, just to make sure he’s really breathing. 

The movements make Mitch’s eyes flutter shut, head slipping to one side as his chest heaves. 

Auston looses it. 

“Mitchy, _fuck_.” His stomach is falling out of body at this point, hands unsure as he presses gently, as if he’ll be able to feel the damage he’s caused. When his hands gently circle Mitch’s throat, checking for - _fuck_ , he doesn't even know what- Mitch’s eyes pop open, wide and vulnerable, and _shit_ , Auston’s never felt this sick in his life. 

“Aus, I’m good,” Mitch promises after one glance at Auston's panicked face. His smile is forced and his pupils blown, as if the last five minutes are all just a far away memory. Auston reels back, giving Mitch space as he himself tries to figure out what the hell is happening. He knows Mitch isn't that good of an actor, or even a liar, but what just happened obviously affected him someway- Auston just doesn't know how he’s supposed to read into this. 

“Come here.” Even now Mitch is watching over Auston, his arms once again open for him. 

Auston can’t help but shake his head ‘no’, slowly getting up from the couch, his movement stiff and awkward like they haven't been since their first date. “I should head home, it’s getting late.” 

Neither comment on the early afternoon sun filtering in through the windows or the fact that they've taken every pre-game nap together since they started dating. 

Mitch sits up slowly then, eyes lost as if he’s trying to figure this all out too. When he finally stands he waivers, and Auston, guilt-ridden, steadies him. 

“Stood up too fast,” Mitch says in explanation, even though they both know it’s a lie. 

On the way out he stops Auston at the door, pulling him in for a kiss, softer than what they’re used to. The air is heavy between them, like they’re leaving everything unsaid and all their questions unanswered. Even though leaving feels wrong, Auston can’t stay here, can’t invade Mitch’s space after everything he’s just done, even if it was an accident. 

His pre-game ritual is ruined without Mitch beside him for his pregame nap, but Auston has convinced himself that it’s worth it if Mitch feels safer on his own. 

***

Mitch likes his sex life, just sometimes, Auston holds back. It’s not like he expects anything else at this point. Their relationship has always been a weird push and pull between the two of them, but sex has always been easy. 

Their first time was a rush of highs, straight off their first win together. They had known each other for less than two months and found themselves in a relationship soon after, despite the warnings their friends and family gave them. No one wanted to mess up the leaf's new thing- but if anything, it made them better. 

Then Auston quickly became _Auston Matthews_ , living up to the hype. 

Sometimes Mitch just wanted him to fuck him like he’s _the Auston Matthews_ and not soft, loving _Matty_. 

Don't get him wrong- their sex life is great. Kind, even. It’s equal and fair, and they’re careful with one another. Boundaries are a thing, just sometimes, Mitch wishes they weren’t. 

He’ll never forget the thrill of his first one-on-one drill against Matts at training camp. They were both rushing after the puck, slamming against the boards, and Mitch knew he could get physical. He knew he could because he knew Auston would push back, but that he wouldn't _push it_. 

Mitch can’t take physicality lightly in games. A hit to a guy like Auston is like a hit to a brick wall for Mitch. When you’re the lighter player, you just don’t get much of an option in how you’re going to fall. It’s all on the person hitting you. If they go high- you’re screwed, lift with a hip check- you’re sent flying, go for a knee- you bend first. It’s not a fair system, but it’s one Mitch has learned the in and out’s of, working it so that he always has his head up, ready to dodge a potentially career-ending hit. 

With a concussion on the line, he doesn't take fighting on the boards lightly, especially with the forty pound difference between them. But while they were flying into the corner that day, Mitch didn't even think twice, never slowing his speed, never backing off the puck, because he _knew_ ; Auston would always make sure he was safe. 

He thinks thats what was so thrilling about today. He pushed the limits today because he knew Auston would never hurt him, despite the power in his arms and the dark set of his eyes. 

Figuring out that he liked when Auston had control wasn't a revelation he came to at the time, all those months ago, while he was fighting tooth and nail in the corner like he never could during a game. Instead, things came to light after, when Babcock called him over after the drill. 

High off the fight that he had eventually won, Mitch skated over smiling. Babcock was quick to change that. 

“I see that in a game and I’m pulling you. Know your limits- you’re no use to us when your opponent can end your career by pushing you head-first against the boards with a flick of his wrist.” 

Auston was close enough to hear. His teammates were all close enough to hear. 

Mitch left the rink that day embarrassed, making a promise to himself to gain all the weight he could so that he could be the defining factor of which way a hit goes someday. 

The idea didn't last long- his body takes to weight like most cats take to water- but Auston had made it better, somehow, stopping him after their first meal together after the incident while Mitch tried to shove down a meal twice his normal size. 

“You’re not a liability to us,” Auston had said. It was nothing, just a couple of words, but it sat heavy and warm in Mitch’s chest, calming him down enough to stop his frantic inhale of food. 

At that point, mid training camp, getting a full sentence from Auston was close to a miracle, so he knew the words really meant something. After that day, Mitch took the words and ran with them, letting his teammates watch his back as he did everything to get the puck to the net and make the team. 

The roster ended up with his name on it, and him and Auston ended up inseparable. 

That day made him realize a lot of things- but mostly it made him realize that he liked being against Auston as much as he liked being with Auston. It translated into their relationship with easy banter, a constant conflict and resolution- a constant push and pull. 

When Auston had put all his weight on him tonight something happened. Mitch doesn't really understand it, but everything just slowed, just like that day during training camp.

It was like being suspended in time. Nothing mattered, nothing could get to him or hurt him, and anything that wanted to would have to go through Auston. 

The weight settled him down, twisting his over-energized body to a halt. It felt…good. 

But Auston had looked so freaked out when he sat up, like Mitch was weird for finding comfort in the breathless dizziness that took over so completely, shutting down his thoughts while he had been held down. 

Mitch has always gotten off on the rougher parts of their relationship, loving the few moments when Auston would get selfish, taking what he wanted from Mitch with a slight harshness. It feels like even those moments won’t be good enough after the mind-clearing bliss Mitch felt tonight. 

Being lost in his thoughts makes four pm come too fast, Mitch’s pregame nap time coming and going as he searches for an answer to what happened today. He can only hope Auston is as ready as he is to fix this- whatever _this_ is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is something people would want to keep reading so if you do please leave a comment and I'll write more chapters!


	2. Chapter 2

Auston has never treaded lightly in his life. His first weeks at the rink he might’ve been reserved, but he never second guessed himself; he’s Auston Matthews, for fuck’s sake- he’s not used to being anything but consumptive. 

Even before he was drafted his presence demanded a calm command of every room, his body thick and big enough to grab attention and eyes wherever he went. After years of this, after his growth spurt, assuming that people are watching his every move became his default. 

It’s hard now, having to slink through the rink’s halls that feel like home, trying to go unnoticed.

He’s not avoiding Mitch. _He’s not_. 

It would just be really nice to get the locker room without his teammates noticing that his boyfriend isn't with him. For the first time ever, Auston regrets their complete co-dependancy.

“Dude, _what did you do_?” Willy asks when Auston gets to his gear cubby. 

For a moment Auston’s brain whites out, trying to school his guilty features into something less noticeable. _He knows. Willy knows._

Auston tries to take a discrete look around the room, waiting to be met with the cold stares of his teammates for what he’s done to Mitch. He unwillingly braces for a punch. 

But- no one’s looking back. 

“Dude chill out, don’t look so guilty” Willy chirps, shoving at Auston’s shoulder. “What, did you and Mitchy murder someone earlier?” 

His laugh chokes off after a glance at Auston’s stone-cold face. A second of silence passes, Willy shifting uncomfortably and Auston too anxious to joke around. 

“I think- yeah I think I heard Mo was looking for me,” Willy points over his shoulder, then flees the opposite direction. He glances back at Auston as he runs off towards his faked excuse. His face is petrified. Whatever- Auston will fix that problem later. 

“You got a minute?” 

So much for avoiding his problems. 

The voice is small, soft. The complete opposite of everything Auston is, even though Mitch would argue the latter as true. 

When he finally gets the guts to turn towards his boyfriend, Auston expects him to look nervous, _hurt_. 

He’s smiling. 

Auston nearly suffocated him to death four hours ago and he’s smiling. “Mitch-” 

“Don't _Mitch_ me, we’re talking.” 

Exasperated, Auston follows Mitch’s fleeting form. There’s no use resisting- like he said before, Mitch always gets his way. 

They start heading out of the locker room, turning down hallways that they know like the back of their hands. Auston knows if they keep going, taking a left and two rights, they’ll be down empty halls without another person in sight, even on a game day. 

“Mitch, are you sure?” He asks, going to grab Mitch to stop him from marching forward before he thinks better of it, leaving his hand hanging awkwardly between them. 

Mitch’s eyes dance from Auston’s hand to his eyes, a back and forth double take until Auston drops the offending limb. 

“Am I sure what?” he asks, dry. 

He doesn't even give Auston a chance to explain. But, like always, Mitch is right on the money, reading Auston better than an open book. 

“If you were even about to ask ‘am I sure I wanna be alone with you’ I’m going to actually punch you in the face.” 

Auston watches his feet, the wall, the empty hallway- anything to avoid Mitch’s eyes. 

“I’d deserve it, though,” he says eventually. And he means it. He really, _really_ means it. For all that he jokes around, pretending Mitch is just another annoying person hanging off his arm, wanting a piece of him, Auston knows that he loves Mitch and would do anything for him, even if that meant having to leave Mitch alone for as long as it takes him to recover from what Auston’s done. Between their bickering and on again, off again fighting Auston knows that this is it for him. He’s never loved anyone like this and these last few hours, questioning whether he even deserves Mitch after what he’s done, has been beyond difficult. At least if Mitch punched him they’d be on equal ground. Maybe then the guilt wouldn't be eating Auston alive like it is now. 

Mitch lays a hand gently on his arm, a shocking surprise, trying to pry Auston’s folded arms away from his body. It’s Auston’s only comfort right now, holding himself together as his stomach swoops in disgust at what he’s done, so he doesn't let Mitch move him. 

Slowly, finally meeting eyes with Mitch, Auston takes a step away. For a second his footing waivers, his movements at war with his ever-present need to be closer to Mitch. Shocked, Mitch’s hand falls from his arm, his face twisting in sadness. 

Looking to the floor, Auston blinks enough that his vision clears. 

He can physically feel the distance between them. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Mitch whispers. 

Of course, _of course_ Mitch is blaming himself. Auston hates him so much right now. 

As much as Mitch pretends like every hurtful thing bounces off of him, Auston knows things stick to him like glue. Even from the beginning Mitch’s seemingly permanent smile never fooled him, not once.

“I almost make you pass out and you apologize to me?” His voice, even to his own ears, sounds incredulous. Mitch wont meet his eyes now, a stark difference to just seconds ago when Auston was doing everything in his power to avoid Mitch’s gaze. Something within the last minute has changed and Auston is too behind to keep up. 

Even though Mitch always acts like he has everything under control and nothing bad phases him, now is different, his head bent and eyes downcast. There’s a blush on his cheeks that Auston doesn't understand and isn't willing to look into, too consumed with the need to fix the wrongs between them. 

“I like it when you’re rough,” Mitch says, out of fucking no where. 

Auston can feel the way his face scrunches up. 

“What the hell does that have to do with-” _Oh._

For a minute he just searches Mitch's face, trying to slow the tidal wave of thoughts rushing at him. He already feels in over his head.

The shocked silence has Mitch rolling his eyes, but his cheeks flush, betraying his nonchalance. Auston knows that flush, the embarrassed heat that takes over Mitch when he asks Auston for something he needs. He’s never asked for something like this before, though. 

Realizing he didn't really hurt Mitch at least has the sickness in his stomach starting to unfold, slowly ebbing away. 

“You wanted me to-” Auston chokes off, making a nondescript hand gesture between them. 

If it were any other time he knows Mitch would be chirping him about his inability to form words, but instead Mitch’s breath leaves his body like a punch, the sound loud between their awkward pauses of silence.

“I liked being held down and then I let you take the fucking fall for my own stupidity, okay? Are you happy?” He’s angry now, which was the emotion Auston has been waiting for since this whole thing happened, but now it feels wrong- he’s supposed to be mad at Auston, not himself. 

He doesn't speak up fast enough for Mitch, who takes the silence as a response and stalks off down the hallway. 

Alone in his wake, Auston feels left behind by more than Mitch’s actions. He kicks his ass back into gear a second later, jogging to catch up. 

“Babe, slow down,” he pleads. Mitch doesn't waiver, wiping clumsily at his eyes as he takes a turn sharply, forcing Auston to speed up. The tears throw him off enough that he sprints the remaining feet between them. 

There’s no easy way to stop someone who’s determined to storm off on you. Auston grabs for Mitch’s hand and doesn't let go. He’s done begging. “Stop,” he says. And Mitch does. 

“I’m not- whatever you think I’m feeling towards this, I’m not,” he promises to Mitch’s back when he refuses to turn around. Every time he tries to tug on Mitch to get him to face him his boyfriend sucks in a choked-off sob, brushing away tears that he’s doing a terrible job of hiding. 

“Mitchy,” Auston pleads. He squeezes Mitch’s hand hard. 

“I’m sorry I scared you, I know it’s weird.” It’s barely distinguishable between his hiccuping breaths. 

Auston, blindsided by the situation, trips over his words. He starts over a couple times, trying to find the right thing to say, before he gives up, tugging harder on Mitch until he’s forced to turn around. He’s never dealt well with tears, and seeing Mitch this broken up hurts him in a way he didn't think other people’s pain could. 

For the first time in a long time they’re not on the same page. 

As he turns, Mitch catches Auston’s lips in a bruising kiss that hits him off guard. Pulling away does nothing, Mitch following after the kiss, refusing to leave the seal of Auston’s arms. 

This isn't what Auston wants. He knows that they need to actually talk and this is just Mitch’s way of pushing the situation away. They cant just pretend like everything’s alright, though. Not about this. Not after he hurt Mitch. 

_Character Development_ , Auston thinks, realizing for once it’s not Mitch but him who’s forcing them to have an open adult conversation about their relationship. 

***

Out of all of his twenty years on this earth Mitch can count exactly five times he’s cried over being embarrassed. 

Here, in the ACC, is the one that hurts the most. He can physically feel Auston slipping away from him, from their relationship, as he tries to end the kiss. 

“Mitch, come on.” He can feel Auston trying harder now to pull away and that is what forces his lips to Auston’s jaw, as if the more marks he leaves on the outside, the less they’ll feel on the inside. 

“Let me just,” he starts, hands fumbling to Auston’s belt. He can’t let Auston leave him, he has to make him stay- if he can just remind him of how good they are together, maybe he’ll stay. It’s hard to see with the tears blurring his vision. 

Tight fists circle his wrists and slowly, carefully, Auston backs them up until Mitch can feel the press of the wall at his back. 

“Mitchy, _no_ ” he says, soft. 

The rejection stings hot, burning a hole through his throat, heart, and stomach all at the same time. Their eyes never break contact, Auston’s pained as they search Mitch’s. 

Between the brick of the wall and the heat of Auston’s body Mitch gives up, melting into him. His forehead falls sloppily onto his boyfriend’s chest. For a minute he just breathes, trying to ignore the shaky push of his lungs against his ribs. 

Of all the ways for their relationship to end, Mitch would’ve never guessed it would be this. He feels sick for taking Auston into this mess of a situation without his consent and then scaring him with the aftermath, but there’s no turning back now. He cant erase what he’s done or the pain Auston has had to endure for the last hours, thinking he had physically hurt him. 

Despite the heaviness between them Auston’s hands card down his back, sweep through his hair, squeeze at his hips. “Talk to me. I can’t read your mind. I don't understand why you’re crying,” he says. His voice is just tipping over the edge of desperation. He’s never dealt well with tears. 

The last time Mitch cried in front of Auston was when they got kicked out of the playoffs. Auston skirted around him for days then, scared off by emotions he didn't understand, much less wanted to share. 

Now he presses closer, not giving Mitch’s lungs room to rattle. Like the press of his body earlier today, it calms Mitch. 

Between the weight of Auston and his consciousness screaming at him, Mitch finally pulls himself together. He promised he wouldn't let his relationship affect their hockey and if they stay out here any longer they’ll both be scratched. 

He schools his voice as calm as he can manage, as if his world isn't falling apart. “I understand if you want to break up with me.” 

And Auston- the fucker- huffs, annoyed. “I’m not breaking up with you because you’re kinky.” He says it completely monotone, with one eyebrow raised expectantly. 

He doesn't understand and it frustrates Mitch more than it should. 

“I basically made you suffocate me and then let you freak out thinking you hurt me for four hours because I didn't have the balls to tell you it was a kink. That’s more than enough reason to break up with someone,” he fires back. 

“Are you trying to convince me- or?” Auston asks, the corner of his lip twitching just the slightest like the way it does before he hits Mitch with the punchline of one of his stupid dad jokes. “-‘cause we can break up, if you really want to, but I just thought you’d maybe want to try out some of your kinky stuff first. But it’s cool, we can break up, no need for our vanilla sex, no need for our could-be future kinky sex- no need for sex in general, full-stop, all that jazz. Just two dudes who love each other- platonically.” 

“I’m serious,” Mitch says, somewhat hurt that Auston is trying to make this into a light matter.

Like day and night Auston’s face changes. From the outside Mitch is sure not many people would even notice the difference, but it’s all in the corners of his mouth and eyes, and the slight tensing of his eyebrows. 

“Im just- nervous, I guess,” Auston admits, abandoning his hold on Mitch for a second to push his hair from his face. It flops back into his eyes a second later, but Auston keeps his hold on Mitch anyway. “I don’t want you to be unhappy, and I want to try this with you it’s just- new? And I'm surprised, and I still feel bad about hurting you, and it’s just-” Auston shrugs, “-a little awkward, I guess.” 

Auston Matthews is a lot of things, but awkward is not one of them.

“Your dad literally walked in on me giving you a hand job once and you were completely unfazed, yet this is awkward?” 

Auston shrugs. “There was a blanket, he didn't see anything.”

Surprised by the laugh he finds bubbling up and out of his mouth, Mitch rolls his eyes.

“He still knew exactly what was happening,” he argues. 

Auston’s eyes crinkle in the corners, his lip pulling up on one side.“I’m a growing guy- nothing wrong with a little sex.” 

There’s a lot wrong with a “little sex” when your parents have keys to your apartments. “I couldn't look him in the eyes for a month, Auston.” 

Auston shrugs again. He leans more against Mitch now, letting him hold up their weight. Amused, he watches Mitch struggle to keep them standing. 

“Asshole,” Mitch chirps. 

Auston kisses his cheek, then his lips, a slow game of catch and release. 

“I love you,” he says when he pulls away. Stupidly, Mitch’s eyes water. Auston, alarmed, tries to take a step back, but Mitch holds him tight. 

“They’re happy tears, jerk.”

Just moments ago Mitch was convinced they were breaking up, if anything his emotional instability is warranted. 

Relieved, Auston relaxes back into his hold. 

“We still have to talk about all of this tonight,” he says, finally supporting his own weight. 

Mitch nods against his chest, hiding there. “I know.” 

They leave it at that, pressing close for one last lingering kiss before they separate, each looking over the other to right clothes and fix hair; a tradition they started after the endless chirps from the guys who claimed they could always tell when Mitch and Auston stowed away for a minute to themselves. Their bruised lips and dopey smilies are always all that’s left of their private moments now, hickeys and pulled clothing back in place before they re-enter the lion’s den that is their locker room.

Tonight is different, Auston checking for tear streaks inside of love bites. 

When they do finally enter the locker room eyes cataloging them as they separate to go to their stalls. 

Apparently word travels fast. 

“Are Mom and Dad still fighting?” Willy asks Auston, seemingly less worried about his potential murder victim. 

Mitch, two stalls down, listens in, unsure himself what they’ll tell their teammates about their bumpy day. 

Auston winks at him across the way while Willy’s distracted with his gear. A second later his face is devoid of all emotion. He leans close to Willy, voice lowered but still loud enough for Mitch to hear. 

“Mitch didn’t buy bleach to clean up the blood from earlier, mistakes get you caught, Wills.” 

Confused but enamored, Mitch chokes on a laugh. Willy’s concerned look turns into a scowl. 

“It’d be a lot less creepy if I could tell if you’re joking or not,” he admits. 

“All in a days work,” Auston says wistfully. He’s wearing a real smile now, one bashfully indulgent in the moment. Willy shoves at his shoulder, an answering smile on his face. 

“I’m glad you guys worked it out,” he says. 

Mitch smiles to himself, trying, and failing, to push down the giddiness in his stomach. He feels invincible and it shows that night, a shutout leaving them all worked down to the core. 

He doesn't interact much with Auston until the locker room clears, too hyped from the constant attention from his teammates. 

When they finally do settle against one another, walking shoulder to shoulder back to Mitch’s car, the air around them is charged, but pleasant. It feels like a promise of the night to come, crackling just under the surface of his skin. 

In the car Auston’s hand circles his thigh, then settles there, squeezing as they recount the game together, passing compliments and sharing the best chirps of the night. 

It’s just like all their other car rides, but today, after everything, it feels special again. Their whole relationship feels renewed. After being worried he was losing this, all Mitch can think of is how lucky he is to have someone like Auston. 

They kiss in the car, then again in the elevator on the way up to Auston’s apartment. They’re nothing but short, lingering ones that neither can hold back from, but they feel weighted. 

“Go take a shower,” Auston prods when they finally collapse on the couch in the living room. The aches from earlier are returning, the adrenaline of the game wearing off. 

“How’s your side?” Auston asks when all Mitch can do is groan at the idea of getting up. 

He tries to remember what happened to his side, but cant recall anything special. 

“That dirty check at the end of the second period,” Auston reminds him. Faintly, out of the twenty hits he took that night, Mitch recalls the one. He shrugs in response, twisting this way and that, trying to feel a twinge of pain. When none comes he gives Auston a thumbs up that gets him nothing but an eye roll in response. 

“How’s your back?” Mitch asks in return. From the corner of his eye he can see the way Auston’s chest puffs the slightest. Prideful bastard. 

“Fantastic,” he says. 

Tomorrow morning Mitch knows he’ll be hunched over the side of the bed, face a twist of pain. 

Checking his phone, Mitch waves away Auston’s lie. “I’ll massage it out before we go to lunch with my parents.” 

Auston groans, muffling it agains their throw pillows. Mitch drops his phone, eyes calculating as he squints at Auston. 

“That was a thankful groan for the back rub, not a we-have-to-go-out-with-your-parents-groan,” Auston defends, face still smushed into the pillow. 

Despite his assurance, Mitch kicks at the edge of Auston’s thigh- the only part of him he can reach as they’re both sprawled out on the large, L-shaped couch. With ease, Auston blindly catches his ankle, forcing him to settle down. 

Content, they both close their eyes, enjoying the quiet after hours spent under the screaming of fans, coaches, and players. 

“Shower,” Auston reminds him, after his text tone sounds, shaking them out of their lazy haze. 

There’s only one thing that could make tonight better. “Join me.” 

And Mitch- he always gets his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if anyone still wants it I could write another chapter where they actually get to the negotiating of what's okay and what's not and whatever follows so if you'd like that let me know! 
> 
> I never really planned to write this so any suggestions on where you'd like to see this fic go, or what you'd like to happen please let me know!
> 
> Comments feed the writer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple warnings for this one: possible non-con trigger warning (Mitch doesn't want "no" to mean no (they establish safe words) and possible anxiety warning

With nothing to wake up for until lunch, Mitch and Auston spend the morning face to face, trading kisses between bouts of sleep. It's the kind of lazy day they haven't had time for lately and it couldn't have come at a better time. Even after they wake up they don't do much, still exhausted from the ups and downs, both physically and mentally, of yesterday. There’s nothing good on TV, they’ve already finished the newest season of Stranger Things, and Auston’s already frozen up three times, hands clenching at his lower back. It’s as good of reason as any for Mitch to push at Auston’s shoulders, getting him to lay on his stomach before he settles in, straddling Auston's thighs. 

“That bad?” He hisses in sympathy, hands already replacing Auston’s. The answering groan is muffled by their pillows. 

“Why didn't you go to the trainers last night? I would’ve waited.” His fingers dig in on a particularly tight spot and Auston stiffens up, then melts. 

“Didn't hurt then,” he lies. 

“Then when?” Mitch tests, hands threatening to leave his work unfinished. 

Auston’s head lifts slightly from the pillows, side-eying Mitch from over his shoulder.

 _Oh_. The heat of his face is enough to have him ducking his head. “Maybe we should keep shower sex to a minimum.” 

Auston snorts, as if the idea is that far-fetched. “Maybe you should stop making me hold you up against the wall while we fuck. You’re not light you know.” 

“You’ve got strong arms,” Mitch counters, unbothered, hands scrapping up to the muscles hidden under the tanned skin of Auston’s upper arms. Either way, he knows Auston was just as unwilling to take the remaining steps to their bed last night. The wall, at least, was better than the floor. 

As if shy under the attention, Auston grunts, reaching an arm back to slap at Mitch to keep him rubbing. He pinches Auston’s side in retaliation, but digs his thumbs into his back dimples a second later anyway. For a while they stay like that, basking in the morning light as Mitch takes the soreness away. 

He barely hears it when Auston speaks again. “So last night was still okay?” 

Between the shower, wall, then bed, _yeah_ , Mitch would say it was pretty great. 

“I mean, even though we didn't do anything-”

“Weird?” Mitch finishes, getting off Auston enough so that he can turn around. This feels like a conversation they should have face-to-face, least they end up stuck in a loop of misinterpretations like last time. When he’s turned and comfortable, propped up against their mounds of pillows, Mitch settles himself back on top, straddling Auston’s waist. 

“You good?” Auston asks, hands carefully tracing Mitch’s bent knees. The day after games always leaves them careful with one another.

To test their comfort Mitch wiggles, feeling the joints grind, but never pinch. Oddly breathless, Auston’s hands shoot to his hips to stop the motion. 

“Yeah, maybe don't do that,” he pants, voice shredded. It’s only then that Mitch grinds down purposely, smile teasing, forcing Auston’s grip on him to redouble. He doesn't stop though, laughing until Auston’s forced to stop him, lifting and twisting them around until Mitch is secured under him.

It’s apparently too familiar to their position the other day, and as much as Mitch enjoys it, Auston still shies away, retreating to his side of the bed. 

For awhile they lay there, both panting up at the ceiling, hands brushing between them. 

Mitch gives into the silence first. “I’m sorry it’s weird.” 

Auston winds up, purposely exaggerated, and slaps Mitch hard on the thigh. From how they’re sitting he doesn't see the way the freshly abused skin matches the color of Mitch’s cheeks. 

“Shut up,” Auston warns, gentle. “And stop saying it’s weird. People have like- feet kinks. _That’s weird_.” 

Despite himself, Mitch snorts. 

***

“Maybe this conversation should involve more clothes,” Auston finds himself suggesting. One glance over at Mitch tells him it’s a good idea. His concentration is good, but it’s not _that_ good. 

They dance around each other for the next hour, slow to get up, slow to get ready, and even slower to bring up the sex talk they both know it’s time to have. Delaying it does nothing, especially once Mitch’s parents call, begging to reschedule. The suddenly free rest of the day only gives them more time to skirt around each other, the tension building until it snaps back at them, like a pulled rubber band, forcing them to separate rooms to decompress. 

Auston makes his time worthwhile, digging into how he feels about the idea of being dominate in bed. Granted he already is mostly the one in control when him and Mitch have sex, but not to the degree this involves. 

It’s not like he’s ever had a bad reaction to taking control. Sure, there’s times when he wants to bottom, but him and Mitch both know what works best them, and normally, that’s Auston leading. 

Even now, thinking back to the top ten times they’ve had sex and really hit it out of the park, he’s met with an alarming ratio of 1:10 of bottoming versus topping. It’s not a problem, really, he just doesn't realize how he didn't notice before now. 

-And of those top nine where he was topping, he remembers having been more forceful, maybe even rough, with Mitch. 

Auston would never call himself an oblivious person, but Jesus, _how did he miss this_? 

It’s not even just Mitch that enjoyed that roughness; those times are in Auston’s top ten for a reason. How this got away from him, he’ll never know. For a second he even entertains the thought that he was unconsciously pushing it away, but given how much he enjoys sex that feels a little far fetched. 

Now that he actually stops to think about it, there’s always been something underlying the satisfaction he feels when Mitch would fight him, then bend to his will, as if pushing him to be better, then giving in once pleased. So maybe this is no different. Maybe he just needs to pull, taking what he wants, while giving Mitch what he needs.

It’s not like being dominant in bed hasn't ever got him going, it’s just that he’s never really seen sex as something so extravagant, so like porn (if you can even call porn extravagant), something that needs more than some lube, a condom, and a couple pillows. Auston’s just always had a goal and a direct path to get to that goal. So if he wanted sex, or Mitch wanted sex, they did things- great things- and got to their goal and sometimes even got a second goal. 

Maybe growing up is realizing that you have kinks, or your partner has kinks, and sometimes those needs need to be satisfied. Maybe growing up for Auston is realizing that sex isn't something you race towards, going for the finish before you’ve even really started the race. 

Some voice in the back of his mind screams things about Juniors, about fulfilling a need versus sharing pleasure with someone you love. 

Because that’s what Mitch is- someone Auston loves. And if he needs this, they need to talk about it; comfortability be damned. 

Despite the revelations relieving some of his worry, Auston’s left panicking that Mitch has spent their relationship wishing for something more fulfilling when it came to their sex life. It only takes him reliving two of their top ten greatest hits for him to shake the thought. He’s confident that even this morning rang true, when Mitch reassured that last night, giving into their needs but keeping it simple, was more than good enough. 

That only leaves one question that Auston is more than familiar with: how do I get better?

“Okay, I did some research,” he starts once he’s cleaned up his mess of thoughts, finding and cornering Mitch in the kitchen where he’s been hiding for the last half hour. There’s not even a pan on the stove or dirtied plate in sight. Auston gives him a look, silently calling him out, and Mitch forcefully returns it, nose in the air. 

“Does porn count as research?” Mitch asks then, when Auston glides his phone across the counter to him, note app opened and ready to go. 

“No,” he answers, then thinks better of it. “Yes.” 

“Well call me Dr., I’ve more than earned my PhD.” Mitch’s smile is devastatingly handsome, even when he ruins it by throwing up finger guns.

Auston’s eyes roll without his permission. “How did I even-”

“Get so lucky?” Mitch finishes, smile gone soft now. 

There’s a pinch of heat in his stomach that claws it’s way to his chest, spreading warm over his heart. “Yeah,” Auston nods back. 

Across the breakfast bar from him, Mitch holds out his hand. There’s no hesitation as Auston takes it, squeezes tight, then pulls Mitch to the stool next to him. 

He’s ready for this, even as his heart tries to beat it’s way out of his chest. 

“So I wrote down there what I’d want to try, what I’d be okay with trying, and then a list of things that are my hard limits, that I absolutely wont try.” 

Mitch goes quiet for a minute, bent over Auston’s phone as he reads. All the while he hums and laughs, typing in his own notes occasionally. 

After another minute he passes the phone back. 

“Okay so,” Auston starts, rereading everything. The first thing his eyes catch, in all caps, is ‘NO PLAY WITHOUT COMMUNICATION’. He nods along, then continues down the ‘no’ list. There’s nothing really special there, just a few things both of them have have stated their distaste for in the past. 

Under the ‘want to try’ section things get a little more interesting. 

“I’m not comfortable with leaving you alone as a ‘punishment’,” Auston immediately picks up on, eyes latched on that one phrase. 

“Okay, that was more of an ‘okay to try’ rather than a ‘want to try’, anyway,” Mitch reasons. When Auston gets the guts to look over at him he’s hot red, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Was there anything of mine that was a hard limit for you?” He finds himself asking more to level the amount of embarrassment between them than to actually find the answer. It backfires spectacularly, Mitch’s hands moving down to wring together in his lap as his blush spreads down his neck. 

“Honestly, I don't really see the appeal in the ‘semi-public sex’ one,” he admits, but only after Auston prods it out of him by kicking at his ankles. 

“Perfect, Mitchy,” he praises. He doesn't miss the deep breath in Mitch takes. Under ‘want to try’ he puts a star next to where Mitch has written ‘praise kink’. They talk it out, wagering back and forth until they decide to ultimately keep semi-public sex on the list, but only to test it. 

“I kind of like the idea of being caught, but knowing we actually wont be, if that makes sense?” 

Mitch nods, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to picture it. “Yeah, I could see that being kind of hot, as long as we for sure know that we’re actually not going to be walked in on.” 

“Yeah, I mean, just forcing you to be quiet really does it for me.” If anyone claimed Auston was blushing right now he’d gladly fight them. 

“Gee, thanks Aus, I’m flattered,” Mitch jokes, eyes calculating even as he laughs. 

With a shrug, smile tugging at his own lips, Auston gives in to his near-constant need to quiet Mitch, leaving a chaste kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. It’s funny because the couple times Mitch has gone quiet on him, after fights or in times of distress or sadness, Auston’s wanted nothing more than his constant, reassuring babble. He puts it down to their natural push and pull, and leaves it at that. 

Two questions later he decides that it’s bullshit that they’re dancing around each other like they’re strangers right now. 

“Living room,” he says, not leaving room for argument as he grabs the phone from the counter. They settle there on separate cushions at first, but Auston ends that quickly, dragging Mitch into the crook of his arm. 

“Much better.” Somehow like this they feel less vulnerable, opening up, laughing more, digging into the things they couldn’t voice comfortably before. 

That night releases the flood gates, leaving them bare to each other in ways they’ve never been before. 

They’ll start slow, they promise each other. 

With a plan to ease into each kink one at a time, only when the mood is there, they decide to lay down some basic ground rules. 

“We could use the typical red means stop, yellow means slow down and talk it out, green is good to go?” 

Auston finds himself shaking his head, hating the idea of such a closed off system. “What if we stuck to just talking through it, at least the first time we try something? Like if something’s not working you say stop, and I stop, or I say stop and you stop. Simple, easy, and that way we keep up constant communication instead of having levels we have to hit to make us reel it in.”

For a minute Mitch is quiet, scrolling through their list. 

“You know how sometimes I say ‘no’ when I really mean ‘yes’?” He says it so casually, as if Auston picks up on this stuff as easily as he picks up on problems with their team analysis sheets. 

His silence gets him a pinch to his side. “Like when I say ‘no, stop tickling me,’ or ‘no, please don’t clean the dishes, you already cooked’. Mitch’s dopey mimicking of his own voice has Auston laughing until he understands. 

“Write that down under try,” he prods. As Mitch types he tries to wrap his head further around the idea, but cant think of a situation in bed where Mitch would tell him ‘no’ and he’d find himself wanting to keep going. The thought sickens him slightly then, and to be fair to what he’s been telling Mitch all night about being open and honest, he voices it. “That one actually might be more on my ‘hard limit’ list.” 

Mitch stops typing, fingers hovering over the backspace key. 

“Give me an example. My mind just went to bad ones,” Auston pushes, seeing that this is something Mitch is slightly hung up on. 

“Okay, so,” Mitch pauses for a minute, then sits up, relieving the ache that’s settled in Auston’s arm. He settles with his legs thrown over Auston’s, then hugs a pillow to his chest. 

“You’re fucking me, right,” he starts, and Auston cant help but smirk, letting his hands wander to his boyfriend’s waist as Mitch talks. “And I cum, and I’m sensivitive, obviously-”

“Obviously,” Auston parakeets.

“-but I still want you to come in me.” Mitch’s eyes dance to his, as if checking to make sure Auston is still following. 

And _fuck_ is he following. His body is showing way too much interest in this scenario, mind providing helpful images of all the times he’s fucked his own cum back into Mitch. 

“So I’m sensitive and maybe I’m trying to get away from the feeling a bit, because it’s a lot, but I still want you to finish in me. So you have to keep going, and I want you to keep going, but maybe because of overstimulation I try to squirm away a little, or even say no. When that happens if you want to, I’d want you to keep fucking me.” 

For a minutes Auston has to remind himself why they’re talking this out. Unsteadily, he runs his hands through his air, trying to focus. 

“I think then, yeah, I’d be okay with it,” he decides. “But we’d still have to have a safe-word, because if we don't use the red, yellow, green thing, and ‘no’ doesn't really mean ‘no’ then how am I supposed to know when you actually want me to stop?”

“By saying stop,” Mitch shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

And thinking on it, it kind of is. 

“Okay, so keep that on the try list.” And they move on. 

Eventually though, they have to get to the topic they’ve both been narrowly avoiding all night. 

“Breath play,” Mitch says. 

Auston swears he can feel both their hearts stutter. 

On his side, Mitch rearranges himself, sitting crosslegged by Auston’s hip. They’re face to face and that somehow feels more important than it ever has.

“I don’t know if I can do that again,” Auston admits, mind providing all the sick, twisting feelings that took over him the day before when Mitch nearly blacked out on him. 

“I understand, completely,” Mitch rushes to reassure him. Despite all the free-flowing conversation minutes ago, about things twice as kinky, this leaves them speechless. 

“Thinking I had hurt you, that I didn't know my own strength and-” Auston can’t finish. He doesn't even want to think about it. “I cloud’ve really hurt you.”

“But I trust you.” 

They’re such heavy words that Auston finds himself choking on them, not able to swallow the air around them. He sits up to breathe better, pulling his legs from under Mitch’s gentle hands. 

Silently, Mitch hands him their other throw pillow. He hugs it in an instant, and slowly, his breathing comes back. 

From the day he first met Mitch he noticed him, because Mitch had a way of talking to people, including them, making them feel like they’re the center of the universe, no matter who they were. 

Ten days in he had Auston altering their path into the locker room, stopping to introduce him to the guys working the door. It wasn't for publicity, it was because Mitch was that way with everyone he so much as brushed on the street. 

It seemed like everywhere Mitch went he left a piece of himself in his wake, giving himself to strangers, friends, family- anyone who needed someone to rely on; Mitch was there. 

Vets had a rookie, rookies had a friend, and Mitch had Auston, who before meeting Mitch thought the world revolved around his family and his hockey, and honestly, not much else. Certainly not his sexuality, or his happiness down the line, or his ability to open up to others. 

How Mitch picked him, he’ll never know. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t-”  
The words physically hurt. 

“-shouldn’t trust me.” The pillow against his chest shudders, stitches breaking from the pressure Auston cant find the will to release. 

“Auston,” Mitch waits until he looks up at him, and as if helplessly, hopelessly, he says, “I trust you.” 

It feels like a promise, bigger than the two of them. For once something falls right into place, instead of shattering on the ground. 

“I trust you, too.” 

It takes days, almost a week, before they fall back into their old rhythm, but when they do, it’s even sweeter than before. 

And from there on, the fun starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments literally are the best, whatever you guys write always seems to give me that last push of motivation i need to write more, so please comment! Tell me what you liked or didn't like, or what I could improve on! Every comment makes me a better writer :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex is a thing, but the open communication train leaves without them in hopes that Auston can give Mitch what he wants. This chapter focuses on need over thought, especially as they hash this out as twenty year olds. They all win in the end, but they'll definitely have to try some more communication lovin' next time ;) 
> 
> No warnings for this, they try to start simply but by accident.

The club is dark, dark enough that Mitch has been glued to Auston's side all night. It's different for them, so used to sneaking glances across from their teammates, only allowed to look, not touch.

Tonight though, they're in a town that wouldn’t know Price from Andersen, so Auston tugs Mitch a little too close, knowing there's no one there to call him on it. It just feels good to finally get his hands on some skin after hours of watching Mitch bounce from teammate to teammate after the game.

In the back, hidden on the outskirts of a dance floor, Auston has his arms wrapped around Mitch’s waist, his fingers digging into flesh as if Mitch would even dare try to step away when he's just as flushed and tipsy. It was too easy for Auston to pull him back, tripping Mitch until his back settled against his chest. And drunk or not, Auston knows Mitch is easy for it, leaning into him heavily as if he needs the help to stand when only seconds ago Auston saw him saunter through the dance floor on steady feet, carrying drinks through the pulsing crowd. He's not bothered by the weight of Mitch against his chest, if anything the angle it gives him is nice, his hips perfectly slotted in the curve of his boyfriend’s ass. He’s drunk enough that feeling Mitch in his arms makes him feel loose instead of cautious despite the crowd around them.

It’s not his fault that Mitch stretches back against him, positioning his neck perfectly so that it practically begs for Auston to mark it up. 

He’s just too weak to resist.

As he devours the stretch of skin so perfectly in front of him he can see Marty keeping an eye on them, waiting to intervene. It's his look that makes something hot surge within Auston, as if the further he pushes their display the more claim he has over his boyfriend. Stupidly, he tests his grip on Mitch’s hips and grinds forward a little harder. The feeling’s good enough to have his eyes slipping closed, the staring contest over as he loses himself in the feeling. 

When his eyes blink back open, slow and disoriented, a scantily dressed waiter is conveniently the first thing he sees, a tray filled with shots poised in her hands. Auston is all too happy to stop her, grabbing four off the try and yelling the name he gave for his tab over the noise of the club. She doesn’t question their compromising position, only writes down the taken order and disappears back into the crowd. 

Taking shots with Mitch is horrible. He always flakes out, hating the burn, and then makes Auston finish the half he didn’t down, constantly leading them to nights spent with Mitch herding Auston to a cab and then bed. 

Tonight though, Mitchy watches from over his shoulder as Auston shoots back one and then the other, and follows suit, only choking on the burn once the second shot is gone. He doesn't have a chaser so Auston pulls him around until they’re finally face to face and kisses him, sucking the taste from his tongue. 

It isn't his smartest idea but he can't see past the red of Mitch's mouth, begging to be kissed and bitten. Everyone knows the first thing about being closeted is to maybe not kiss your boyfriend in a sea of people, but Mitch's mouth is sweet, somehow feeling as dark as the club, his libs heavy and clumsy. They're young and they're reckless, giving into the moment, tangled together like they're not million dollar athletes riding the wave up to the peak of their careers. This is better than that wave anyway. Auston thinks he could do this all night, getting lost in the soft sounds Mitch makes that he can feel but not hear with the noise surrounding them. 

There's enough alcohol aiding him that the wall he’s leaning against is probably all that’s keeping him upright at this point, but it’s cool against his back as the movements between him and Mitch get hotter and their kiss, dirtier. 

He’s riding the edge of his high while his body decides to go from loose to stung tight, aware. Behind the cloud of alcohol, Auston knows they need to take this somewhere private, but those thoughts disappear quickly with the next roll of hips. He cant think past the lazy grind they have going, teasing each other and then pulling back solely to torture themselves. 

Mitch’s neck was so nice before that Auston cant help but push Mitch’s jaw to the side to detach their lips and give him access to what he really wants. He sets in on covering the line of Mitchy’s jugular with harsh, stinging bites despite the voice in the back of his head screaming ' _no, off limits_ ' to him. Feeling Mitch slacken against him, knees too weak to stay standing, leaving him like a rag doll in Auston’s arms, makes him feel like a lion, powerful with the neck of his prey hanging from his mouth. 

Something about it has him straightening up, listening to his voice of reason, forcing them both to stand on their own. Mitch’s eyes, when they find his, are confused, begging, _needy_. 

Auston would pull the fucking moon from the sky right now if Mitch asked him to. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he soothes, kissing his lips one last time. Mitch tries to deepen it, even closes a fist in Auston’s shirt to keep him close, but Auston easily overpowers him and separates them, then runs a hand through the mess of Mitch’s hair, taming it. It’s a promise that he’ll give Mitch what he needs, that he’ll be taken care of.

He makes sure they have everything they brought, then starts pulling them through the masses of people, sure to keep Mitch protected from stumbling drunk idiots and the occasional person that tries to get them dancing. 

On the way out Auston finds Marty’s stare and gives him a wave, making sure he nods back before they trade the heavy air of the club for a cold breeze and empty streets. 

Neither shiver even though they should be. It’s proof enough of the alcohol flowing through their bodies. 

Mitch starts walking, going in the wrong direction to the hotel, but Auston stays rooted, watching amused as Mitch gets pulled back a foot as their held hands stretch as far as they can. 

He knows his smile is probably all too sly as Mitch pouts at him. “Where you going?” Auston tests. 

It only makes Mitch more annoyed, but his annoyance is endearing. The soft pout of his lips and the hard set of his eyes is all Auston needs to see before he’s back up in Mitch’s space, licking hotly into the pout he has yet to give up. 

He doesn’t even kiss back, too committed, but Auston does what he knows, walking them back until he’s able to press Mitch against the brick of the club they just came from. It gets the desired punch of breathlessness Auston was going for, leaving Mitch’s mouth gasped open, easy to take over. 

Being outside doesn’t feel nearly as private as the club, despite the emptiness of the streets. Mitch moans though as Auston tugs a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and he soon finds himself uncaring of privacy, rolling his hips to the muffled thrum of music behind them. 

It’s intoxicating, uncaring who sees them, and in the back of his mind Auston remembers their list. He pulls away just to chirp Mitch, but instead gets the full, stumbling, force of Mitch following after him, not ready to let Auston go. 

The clearing of a throat and some following laughs stops them in their tracks. Their fearful eyes lock for a second as they detach themselves from each other.

“I knew I should’ve followed you guys out.” They both unfreeze at the sound of Marty’s voice, smiles overtaking the previous stretches of worry that covered their faces. 

“Call the kids a cab,” Morgan shouts, before hopping into his own with some of the guys. As they drive away there’s more catcalls through their opened windows. Auston’s not ashamed that he knows how to make Mitch fall apart in his arms. If anything, it’s a compliment. 

“You two are idiots, if we were anywhere else-“ 

Auston cuts off the vet’s rant with a look. “I’m always careful,” he lies. 

Marty eyes Mitch, and Auston knows he’s lost his credibility. 

Mitch is still dazed, his hair messy, shirt pulled, and cock straining against the front of his jeans. He’s blushing under the attention of being caught, but his blush matches well with the bitten red of his lips and the bruising already showing up along his jaw, neck, and collar bone. He looks so fucking good that Auston has to press a hand against the zipper of his jeans, adjusting himself as he tries to relieve the pressure. 

He realizes now that he may have gotten carried away.

“Find a way to hide those hickeys by tomorrow,” Marty tells him seriously. Auston eyes them again before nodding. “My sisters left us some makeup last time they visited” he explains. Matt cuts him off, “don’t want to know, dude.” It’s fair enough, Auston supposes. 

Their hotel room, when they finally make it back, is too dark and too cold. Mitch starfishes on the bed closest to the door, not even bothering with his shoes. The car ride with their chaperone cooled them off enough that they’re just tired, overwhelmed from the long day they’ve had. 

Auston looks at Mitch’s splayed form and decides to take the bathroom first, starting up the shower. When Mitch doesn’t make his way in at the sound of the running water he pops his head out the door. “You coming?” he asks, but Mitch doesn’t move, eyes closed and breathing evened out. He’ll hate himself in the morning if he wakes up in those clothes, so Auston gently shakes him awake, watching the way Mitch’s eyes blink open then focus on him. Once he understands what he’s seeing he smiles, hands already reaching to pull Auston into bed. 

“Not tonight, Mitchy, come on,” he prods, slowly pulling him upright then standing him up. He sways with sleep, letting Auston hold him close. When he burrows, face hidden in Auston’s neck, Auston knows Mitch is trying his best to fall asleep standing up. 

He can only think of one way to win this battle, so he takes Mitch over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and calls his plan a success, even as Mitch complains loudly. His ass is right there, so Auston smacks it over and over again as he walks them to the bathroom, not deterred by Mitch trying to throw his weight around to off-balance them. 

His rambling, “ _you cant just pick up a person when they don’t do what you say,_ ” gets lost under the spray of the shower. Auston watches, amused as Mitchy’s eyes get heavier, more compliant, as steam fills the air. Eventually he steps in too, keeping his arms wrapped around Mitch in case he slips in his tired state.

Just the rush of the water helps sober him up enough to go through the motions of cleaning them both up. “You’re the best,” Mitch mumbles, when Auston starts washing his hair. Mitchy’s complaining is long gone by now, loose limbs left in it’s wake. Auston doesn’t even have to hide his smile, Mitch is so content he’s happy showering with his eyes closed and face buried against Auston’s shoulder. 

When they finally do make it to bed they both snuggle into the one farthest from the door. It’s only then that Mitch perks up as Auston moves them around until he’s comfortable. They’re spooned together, ready for sleep, put Mitch breaks the silence. “You gonna fuck me, Matty?” 

Auston nearly chokes on his tongue and then bursts out laughing. “I’m pretty comfortable,” he says reasonably, still laughing as he snuggles deeper into the mound of pillows around him. Mitch isn’t though, he scoffs and wiggles around, purposely grinding against Auston. 

“Really?” Auston asks, steadying him with a firm grip. If there’s one thing Mitch is more than good at, it’s getting him riled up.

It doesn’t take much more convincing until Auston throws his white flag, pushing Mitch out of the bed to grab their lube. 

From there it’s too easy for Auston to throw back the covers and spread his legs out. “Suck me off, first,” he tells Mitch when he gets back. Mitch actually has the audacity to look offended. 

“You’re literally forcing me to fuck you, get up here.” Auston adds an annoyed look and wraps a hand around himself, steadying his dick. Mitch’s mouth clacks closed and he huffs, but ultimately he settles between Auston’s legs on the bed, glancing up at him with a look that could easily be described as a glare before he takes Auston’s cock down in one go. 

It’s hard for Auston to keep his annoyed demeanor while his boyfriend chokes himself on his dick, so he grabs a fist-full of hair and pulls Mitch off, loving the way he gasps for air, spit trailing from his lip to Auston’s cock. 

“Don’t be brat,” Auston warns him, pushing him back down. Mitch barely chokes this time, ready for it. 

The next time Auston yanks Mitch off, he then steadies him gently. “You remember the safe word for when your mouth is full?” 

Mitch closes his eyes for a moment as if trying to remember and Auston tugs on his hair a little harder. It’s always difficult to get Mitch talking once they start going. 

“I,” he starts, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, “I pinch your thigh.” He’s right so Auston lets him sink lower but doesn’t let him fully take his dick.

“You wanna be good, baby?” he asks, keeping him hovering just an inch away from what he wants. Auston’s never dated anyone that loves to suck dick so much, but Mitch has always been different, always surprisingly eager to please him. 

“Yeah,” Mitch pants, eyes begging. With a thrill, Auston lets him lower, enough so that he can run his dick along Mitch’s lips. Every time he tries to open his mouth for more Auston yanks his hair just the slightest, easing him off and then finally letting him come closer. He toys with Mitch until he cant anymore and Mitch takes him so perfectly then, letting Auston set the pace with the hand tangled in his hair. 

Everyone always wants to get to the main event, though, so he pulls Mitch off. “How’re you doing?” he asks as he settles Mitch on his back among the pillows. 

Thankfully, Mitch really thinks about it for a minute, his eyes tracking Auston’s hands as he slicks up his fingers and dick. 

“I’m okay,” he decides, “you’re still being careful though.” It’s only been a week since they’ve made their list. 

Auston snorts, wipes his hand on the sheets, then grabs under Mitch’s thighs, forcing them up. “We’ve been drinking,” he reminds, as if either can ignore the slight laziness to their movements as their buzz wears down. 

“Should’ve got you high,” Mitch chirps, shutting up as Auston circles the first finger in. He’s always gentle with this part, no matter how much Mitch squirms for more. 

“I wanted to fuck you right there in the club,” Auston admits, watching Mitch’s face scrunch up as he presses the next finger in. His eyes open back up after a minute of easing, so Auston goes for three right away. It doesn’t take much for Mitch to be begging for more. He’s always so easy for it. 

“The guys all saw how riled up I get you,” it’s meant to be teasing but Mitch full-out moans at it, tensing up and then going listless as Auston fucks him with his fingers. 

“Only good for you, Auston,” he whines. He spreads his legs further then, as if proving he doesn’t need Auston’s hold to stay positioned for him. Just watching him hold himself open sends heat down to Auston’s stomach, forcing him to take his fingers out faster than he means to. Mitch whines even louder then, hole clenching on nothing until Auston lines his dick up, enamored by the way Mitch squirms for him. 

“Take it, baby,” he tells him gently, pressing in inch by inch. He watches Mitch gasp in, but never let the air out, unable to breathe when there’s so much to feel. 

“Common, Mitchy, be good for me, relax on it,” Auston coaches, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. He ends up biting at Mitch’s collarbone for awhile until Mitch absolutely sobs with it, choking out breaths as he rakes his short nails down Auston’s sides. 

“Please, Auston, fuck me,” he begs, on a loop. 

It’s all that Auston needs. He presses in hard, once, testing, then goes for broke, holding Mitch’s legs open as he fucks him. 

The position’s appealing, good for Auston, but Mitch just keeps whining with it, breaths short from the way he’s scrunched up. Auston wants more from him. 

When he pulls out Mitch loses it, eyes opening wide as they well with tears. “Matty, Aus, please, _please_.” He’s barely breathing past the tears but Auston still flips him around, shoving a pillow under his hips and the dragging one of Mitch’s hand’s behind his back so that he has leverage while he pins the other with their fingers intwined on the bed, next to Mitch’s head. 

“Ask me nicely,” Auston tells him, biting at his ear. Mitch’s breath waivers, his panting breaths harsh against the sheets before he gives in. 

“Please Matts, please fuck me, please, I’ll be so good.” Auston bites the back of his neck hard then, grinding down but not pushing in. “Be good for me, arch your back,” he commands. Mitch follows suit, and pleased, Auston releases the hand pressed against the small of Mitch’s back to help push his dick in. He doesn’t thrust again until he has Mitch’s wrist pinned back again, even when he begs. 

The first thrust in is careful, but Mitch doesn’t so much as flinch, so Auston gives in, letting himself pound his weight behind each thrust. 

He can already tell the angle’s good. Mitch has gone quiet under him, mouth open and eyes fluttering. Auston knows they could both cum like this, easily, but he wants more. He settles his weight back and blearily Mitch’s eyes stop fluttering, looking back at Auston confused. 

“Up here, baby,” he tells him, pulling Mitch up to his knees so that they’re spooned together, back to chest. 

The angle’s just as good now, maybe even better, if the way Mitch starts shuddering against him is any indication. His head keeps falling forward, then flinging back to rest against Auston’s shoulder. Like that it’s easy for Auston to go for his neck again, panting into the skin between bites and kisses. 

When he pulls back the slightest, Auston can see the way Mitch’s eyes stare emptily to the sky, as if too fucked out to even focus on anything but what he’s feeling. 

“You wanna come, baby?” he asks, as if it’s even a question. He needs a response just to know if Mitch is still with him. He gets more than he bargained for, Mitch nodding as he starts pleading again too, his hand scrambling to pierce Auston’s arm just for something to ground himself to. He doesn’t stop pushing though until Auston goes with his motions, letting his arm get dragged up until his hand is by Mitch’s throat. 

His hips stutter for a second, hesitating, but Mitch absolutely cries at the idea of him stopping, practically throwing his hips back to keep the brutal pace Auston set before.

It’s the brattiness of Mitch impaling himself that has Auston forgetting to think as his hand wraps around his boyfriend’s throat. 

“Thought you were gonna be good?” he taunts. 

“Am,” Mitch whines, over and over again, hands scrambling to hold onto Auston’s forearm. It’s only then, while watching Mitch’s fingers imbed in his wrist and forearm, that Auston sees his own grip on Mitch’s throat. It’s frighteningly tight, but Mitch is pliant against it, his head still leaned back on Auston’s shoulder, practically inviting him into the hold. His grip doesn’t loosen, enamored by the welcome, and experimentally, he squeezes a fraction harder on every thrust. 

He’s done in two, eyes dark as he watches Mitch’s fly open, blinking as if unbelieving. He barely makes a noise as he cums, his gasp-opened mouth stuttering as if he doesn't know how to anymore. Auston does what he can to push him through it as he starts to aim for his own orgasam

Even as Mitch's hands drop heavily from their grip on his arm, Auston keeps his hold on Mitch's neck. It's more for him now anyway, despite how Mitch has gone pliant, loose in his arms, bending at his command like a rag doll, completely trusting Auston to take care of him. It's that thought that sends Auston pressing in one last time before he buries himself home, breath punched out as he cums. 

In the back of his mind, somewhere deep, deep, down, he can feel Mitch shaking under the overstimulation, but he can’t move. They fall forward like that, Auston’s dick slipping out slowly before they topple over, panting into the pillows. 

His brain is fried, the image of Mitch’s throat feebly locked in his grip replaying like a loop over and over in his head. 

“Mitch?” he asks what feels like hours later, when his brain comes back online and he realizes neither of them have so much as moved. There’s no answer, just the soft puffs of shared breath, and Auston scrambles to right himself, not even letting himself linger on the sight of Mitch’s ass still propped up and leaking his cum as he gets to the other side of his boyfriend. 

Mitch’s eyes are open, but unseeing, blinking heavily. Auston’s read about this, but Mitch said it probably wouldn’t happen.

Even though he thinks he should be, he’s not scared. 

“Mitchy, baby boy, how’re you doing?” He talks gently as he pets Mitchy’s hair off of his forehead, slowly bringing him back. When Mitch’s eyes float to his a smile sweeps onto his face. He’s blushing now, breaths heavy and slow, even as Auston lays next to him, face to face. 

“I’m so good,” he whispers, still melted into the sheets, his voice shredded. 

“So good, baby,” Auston promises him, his own smile starting to take over his face. They shouldn’t have done this, not tonight, not buzzed for the first time they try breath play again, but he doesn’t regret it, not when it gave them what they both craved.

Despite their more than stellar outcome, Auston knows liquid courage isn't a safe outlet, but he honestly thinks he would've never dared to touch Mitch's throat again if it weren't for the shots they did.

Looking over at him now, blissed out and practically floating, Auston knows there's nothing to regret.

“I have to clean you up,” he eventually has to argue, after the third time he tires to get up and Mitch stops him. Mitch isn’t convinced, though, and Auston’s forced to press his grabby hands back into the mattress, completely aware of the way Mitch goes listless again under his hold. 

It isn’t easy for him to leave, either, but they’ll both be sorry if they wake up to dried cum everywhere. Traitorously, Auston’s dick twitches at just the sight of his cum pooling in the crease of Mitch’s thigh, but he’s too exhausted to do anything, and he’s not quiet sure Mitch could even handle getting eaten out right now, as much as he wants to. 

Just cleaning Mitch up leads to Auston evading the spears of his boyfriend's short nails while uncomfortable, oversesitive whines hiccup from Mitch's mouth. Auston tries to be overly cautious and Mitch knows it's no easy task, so he hides his face in the pillows for comfort, muffling his cries. When Auston tries to mop up the mess on his stomach, Mitch works against it, burrowing deeper into the bedding, muffling laughs now instead of cries. It's all too easy for Auston to grab one of his legs and use it to flip him around to finish, leaving him with a whip of the towel to his ass as revenge. The real problem’s once he gets to his own dick, half-hard but way too sensitive for the roughness of the damp towel he’s holding. Auston does it in one quick go, wincing, winded, but it’s worth it to pull Mitch to the other bed and be clean. 

In the morning they’ll have to talk about everything they’ve tried and compare notes, but for now Auston figures they can bask in the moment. 

“I love you,” Mitch grumbles with his face only half-smushed into the pillow now. It’s terribly adorable and Auston can’t help but press kisses to his face, squeezing Mitch tight as he jokingly tries to dodge the kisses. It’s the perfect night, the perfect end to the day, and together they settle down, almost in awe of themselves. 

Worn into exhaustion, sleep comes easy, even as their thoughts dance wildly with new possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh so they did the do, I have no idea where to take this or if I should even keep writing it so let me know your opinion in the comments!


End file.
